As they say in England
by silk1
Summary: It´s a little shipper with Sam and some JoshDonna.....Sam inadvertantly causes C.J. to go into diplomatic meltdown. Just give it a try...New Chapter up!
1. Chapter 1

NOTES:I usually don't writeWW –Fanfic, so be gentle. This just popped into my mind because I looooove this show and Lord John Marbury! I thought it might be fun. In my WW-Universe Sam has never left for California …..so this is kind of an alternate Season 5. In case you did not notice …..not a big Amy-Fan. Josh belongs with Donna!

DISCLAIMER: Sorkin is a genius! He owns everything

_**Vicky ...Something**_

„Is the White House ready to comment on Sam Seaborne dating the British Ambassador's daughter?" The question caught her unaware. She had been about to finish this less than memorable, almost boring briefing, her mind already on a million other things. Now C.J. looked at the room of reporters, staring into about twenty eager, surprised faces. She wasn't even sure who had called out the question.  
"Excuse me?" C.J. asked with a smile creeping over her face. This had to be a joke. Was it April fools day already?

"Last night Sam Seaborne was seen leaving a bar in Georgetown and getting into a cab with Lord John Marbury's daughter. The witness claims that they were both …" the young woman, whose name C.J. was unable to conjure up, hesitated. She had not been working in the West Wing for long and the scrutiny of the press secretary and several more seasoned reporters seemed to rattle her just a little. "…intoxicated." She finished, taking a deep breath."Is the White House ready to comment on their burgeoning romance?" C.J. was tempted to bite her lip to keep from laughing.Ohhh...this was good.

"The White House is quite unaware of any romance in Sam Seaborne's life." C.J. quipped easily. "Whoever brought this rumour to your attention is completely mistaken. Sam Seaborne is most likelyquite ignorant of the fact that the British Ambassador even has a daughter."

Smiling to herself, C.J. left the briefing room, walking swiftly through the corridors to her own office. What a ludicrous idea! She had to tell Sam and Josh about this….what a joke! She was well aware of there being a daughter, but as far as she knew, the girl was still in merry old England.

But when she sauntered into Josh Lyman's office, the room was empty.

"Donna…." C.J. said, turning around with an uneasy feeling in her stomach."Where is Josh?"

Donna Moss gave her an impatient glare that was not meant for her, but all the more referring to her boss. "He is on his way. He just called to complain about his hangover for all of ten minutes."

"Hangover?" C.J. inquired, trying to calm the growing panic.

"They went to some bar in Georgetown last night, you know …One of those places where Josh like to impress students with his geekyness? But I think he didn#t get the chance to impress too many graduat-students. I told Amy where he went. Sam is not here either."

"Oh my god!" C.J. said, with a feeling of impending doom."Carol!" she yelled for her assistant.  
The pretty brunette looked up from her computer."I need you to find me everything on Lord John Marbury's daughter. What she does, who she knows, where she goes, what she looks like….pictures, college transcripts…whatever."

"Lord John Marbury has a daughter?" Carol asked surprised.

"Apparently." C.J. growled.

------------------------------------------------------

Twenty minutes later, she was back in Josh's office.

"You and Sam went out last night?" she asked him. Josh leaned back in his chair, his eyes closed and his brow deeply furrowed. "I need an aspirin. Donna!" he yelled. "Donna!"

C.J. decided to take that as an affirmative answer."What did you do?" she asked angrily. Josh opened an eye at her offended tone of voice, groaning. "What do you mean?"

C.J. forced herself to count to ten, very slowly."Did Sam meet anyone last night?"

Josh opened his other eye, sitting up straight with a wince. "Funny you should ask this. He did meet this girl …what was her name again? Vicky, Vicky something…I think, curvy little blonde, talked a mile a minute. "he grinned at C.J. "You should have seen her….one minute Amy was talking about Susan Faludi and how Third Wave feminism isn't really feminism at all, the next minute this Vicky-girl is giving her a piece of her mind, telling her that the backlash Faludi was referring to has really nothing to do with Third Wave Feminism and how sick the women of her generation were of women like Amy trying to tell them how to be a good feminist. It was great! Completely blew Sam's mind." He laughed, frowning at C.J.'s stony expression. It slowly dawned on him that something was wrong.

"What's going on?" he asked, suddenly a lot more serious.

C.J pulled a photograph out of the folder she was holding, slamming it onto his desk.

"What's this?" Josh leaned forward to look at the photo.

"That, my hung-over friend, is a picture of the Prince of Wales competing in a polo-match." She told him scornfully. "May I draw your attention to the right corner of the picture? Do you by any chance recognize the young lady chatting amicably with her majesty Elisabeth Windsor, Queen of England?"

Josh leaned even closer as the headache made another attempt to burst his skull. Where was Donna with those damn painkillers?

"Yeah…I mean, her hairis shorter now and without the hat….. but …..that kind of looks like ….Vicky." Josh said sheepishly, realizing that something was very, very wrong.

C.J slapped another photo in front of him"This is a picture of Lady Victoria Eleanor Elizabeth St. John, daughter of Lord John Marbury and the late Cecily Claire St. John taken at her graduation from Cambridge. Look like anyone whose acquaintance you made in the last 24 hours?"

Josh groaned, putting his head onto the table and covering it with his hands. He should not have never gotten out of bed this morning….this was worse than any hangover in history.

"Josh…." C.J. said impatiently.

"I know…."

"He did go home with her?" Josh managed a nod, withstanding the urge to yell for Donna again.

"Josh…."

"I know!"

"Sam had a one-night-stand with the daughter of the British ambassador!" C.J. clarified to drive her point home.


	2. In Demand

DISCLAIMER: Not mine

NOTES: Thanks for the kind reviews. I'm really enjoying writing this.Ohh also ...I'm not a native speaker, so please forgive any mistakes!

**In Demand**

Sam Seaborne woke up to the sight of a glass of water and two Tylenol waiting for him on a white nightstand. He squinted against the bright sunlight, streaming in through a window at the other end of the room. This was not his bedroom, he noted. And he was naked, which was strange since he did not sleep naked. In fact, more than often he slept fully clothed, just falling onto his bed and falling asleep immediately after coming home at two or three o'clock in the morning. Well, there was a dull ache in his head….and there was the distinct sound of somebody showering in a bathroom close by.

He turned around in the comfortable king-sized bed, looking at a blond hair glittering on a nearby pillow….and he remembered. Vicky …..Vicky…something; English, curvy, fast-talking with the most adorable crisp English accent. A doctorate in social-history…..She was blonde….wasn't she?

He located his boxers and T-shirt flung over a nearby armchair and put them on.

Well….two hook-ups in a bar in four years, that really wasn't that bad, was it?

He looked around. The bed took up almost half the room. There were expensive art-prints in big frames mounted on every wall. Vicky seemed to favour the Pre-Raphaelite era, if he was not mistaken. He could make out two Waterhouse, one Rosetti and one Edward Burne-Jones. There was a coffee-table strewn with books, newspapers and two piles of pictures…one very untidy, one neat. A box of silver-pictures frames was shoved under the table….as though she had not gotten around framing those photographs yet. There were more boxes, stacked more or less neatly at the far off wall….it was obvious that she had not lived here…wherever here was…..for very long. She had to be living with a friend or roommate though, how else would she afford such a great apartment? Sam asked himself as he looked around. Her place was better than his!

Sam leaned down and picked up a few of the pictures: Vicky standing between an aristocratic-looking older couple in front of a big iron gate, smiling. A younger Vicky sitting atop a chestnut-coloured horse, decked out in all kinds of fancy riding-regalia, a blond girl of 8 or 9 yearshe surmised to be Vicky surrounded by at least a dozen dachshund-puppies. Vicky with a strangely familiar looking fellow in a ghastly Hawaiian-print shirt in front an Asian temple of some kind…..how did he know this man? Oh heavens, Sam let go of the picture with a little shriek, thankful Toby or Josh could not hear him. The guy in the ugly shirt was Lord John Marbury…..how was that ….possible?

His eyes were drawn to the other pile of pictures. There was Vicky in a magnificent ball gown complete with long black gloves and a tiny tiara next to…..Prince Andrew? Oh, this was not good.

Sam swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. He went through the rest of the pile…..and it got worse: Vicky next to Tony Blair, Vicky in a cocktail dress with a plunging neckline dancing with Prince Albert of Monaco, Vicky with a couple of Formula 1 pilots in Silverstone, Vicky with a guy who might or might not be Salman Rushdie, Vicky with Boris Becker, Vicky with a bunch of burly man wearing nothing but Kilts, Vicky talking to Sean Bean, Vicky and Lord John Marbury on a park bench, Vicky drinking shots with ….Keith Richards and Mick Jagger?

Sam closed his eyes. How could this happen to him …again?

"You up?" he heard her yell from the still running shower.

"Yep…." He answered resigned.

"Did you find the Tylenol I sat out for you?"

"Yes…thank you." Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, struggling to come up with the right words to phrase the delicate question his mind was sternly demanding him to ask. How much did he drink last night?

"Ah….Vicky, um …can I ask you something?"

"Yes, we did have sex last night. You were lovely." She yelled over the sound of the rushing water, laughing.

"I was?" Sam asked, grinning, and then remembered what was going on a nd shook his head.

"Thank you but …..I... uhm, was wondering…"

"Yes?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, but …." Was there really a right way to take this, he wondered. It could not be, could it? Sure, she was pretty, but hardly a model's size he guessed was a requirement for that kind of profession. Laurie had been tall and beautiful…..But the pictures….. "You are not by any chance some high-end call-girl for the rich and famous, are you?"

A throaty laugh answered him from the shower. "Why would you …oh god, the pictures! I did not even bring them, my gran must have smuggled them into the box when I was not looking. Shethinks Ishould take more pride in how many people I have met!" she laughed again.

The sound of the water died down and a few moments later Vicky came through the door in a bathrobe, drying her hair with a towel. "Why …do you have a habit sleeping with call-girls?" she quipped.

"I wouldn't call it a habit…." Sam murmured. "And I didn't know she was a call-girl…I didn't …I mean."

She looked at him with a confused smile. "I was just being silly Sam, relax!"

Right ….silly. He could really get used to that crisp accent. Still…..it did not explain how she met all these people. His eyes fell onto a big framed photograph on a bookshelf nearby: Vicky ….again with Lord John Marbury at what looked like a new year's party, his arm draped around her shoulders. A very different scenario of much more horrid proportions shot through Sam's mind. She had the expensive apartment …all those pictures ….things could be worse than her being a call girl! What if he had slept with the ambassador's mistress? He could just see the headlines …."Senior White House staffer in bizarre diplomaticlove triangle"….

C.J. was going to kill him.

"Ahhh ….you know the British ambassador?" he said, trying hard to sound casual.

"Ha?" She had her back turned to him, sorting through a drawer of clothing. When she turned around, Sam found himself gesturing towards the picture. "Lord John Marbury…."

She frowned mockingly. "Don't tell me you actually call him that to his face!" she said with an amused grin.

"Yes, we do …" Sam answered a little confused. "He is her majesty's ambassador after all."

"Right…..I don't call him that though." She told him, turning towards the drawer again, retrieving a T-shirt.

"Well…..what do you call him, if you don't mind me asking?" Sam asked, rubbing his forehead with a sense of imminent doom. In his mind a whole tapestry of really bad answers unfolded. Master, lover, honey-Bunny, dear…..he mentally prepared himself for everything….

"Dad." Vicky said, shrugging at him. "Why? What do you call your father?"

Well….maybe he was not prepared for that. C.J. was going to kill him. Before he could find any words or maybe...pass out, just a little, both his beeper and his cell-phone started ringing simultaneously.

"You're quite in demand, aren't you?" She shrugged out of her robe with a sly smile. Sam swallowed. "I'm dead."


	3. Usual Suspects

DISCLAIMER: Like I Own any of this ….

NOTES: Thanks for the feedback and your Patience! I had to move so …everything has gotten away from me ….

**USUAL SUSPECTS**

„I'm dead. " Sam surmised again after putting down his cell phone, C.J.'s stern sermon still ringing in his ears. Somehow he felt like he had just been told off by his mother.

Vicky gave him a quick smile, wriggling into a pair of jeans. He looked at her, not quite sure where to begin. She walked over to the window, frowning as she let the curtain slide back into place after a quick look. "You're in trouble, aren't you?" she asked him wryly.

"That is one way of putting it I guess. How do you know?"

"I'm pretty sure the eight reporters on the other side of the street are not here for me … at least, the press was not very interested in my activities on American soil so far and I don't recognize any of the usual suspects working for the SUN or the DAILY MAIL. So I'd say they are waiting for your …walk of shame."

Sam closed his eyes and shook his head.

"You know …I never do this kind of thing, pick a woman up in a bar, that is. This is the second time I went home with a girl I found intriguing and once again I am inciting a crisis…though this one might be slightly bigger than the first." He grabbed for his shirt which was flung over a potted plant and shook his head again. "I feel I should apologize for getting you into this."

She gave a very feminine laugh, walking over to him. "Oh Sam, that is so cute." She said, running her hand over his arm until she held his hand in hers. Sam liked it, her hand was soft and warm. "I think I´m the one who should feel bad. You had no idea who I was …." She took a deep breath, wrinkling her nose. "I on the other hand ….I knew exactly who you were. Seen a picture of you once in the Daily Mail….always thought you were….really hot." She admitted.

"Really?" Sam looked at her, trying to chase the stupid grin from his face.

Vicky nodded, frowning. "And you didn't pick me up in that bar, although it is very sweet of you to think that you did, very gentlemanly. But …once I met you and realized that you were just as brilliant as I thought, I just ….I picked you up, Sam. This is my fault, really. I should have told you who I was. I didn't mean to get you into trouble. I'll call my Dad and just …explain."

Sam frowned, still trying to sort through all the information whilst ignoring the pounding hangover he was nursing. She thought he was hot …and brilliant …well that was just …

Focus, Seabourne! The president …her father ...the White House….

"Vicky, that might be a little too …late. Your father is at the White House right now. Apparently he is having a meeting there with the president about a situation at the Indian border. That was one of the things C.J. was yelling at me about."

"Oh…." Vicky bit her lip. "Bollocks."

"Also …" Sam said, grabbing for his pants he had spotted in a corner. "For the sake of appearances we might have to date …for a while at least. I mean until I fuck it up, because that is what I usually do as several women have been kind enough to assure me."

Vicky crossed her arms under her chest with an amused expression, raising one eyebrow.

"Casually or …exclusively?" she asked.

"What?"

"If you want to date me for the sake of your country and your president, you should really be more specific."

Sam made a face. He had not seen this coming. Was she kidding?

"Well….exclusively, I guess…I mean…I don't know. I mean …if you want to …"

He paused, looking at her for a moment. "I'm doing this all wrong, aren't I? I should at least ask you …do you even want to see me again?"

Vicky sighed, giving him a sweet smile. He was kidding…he had to be. There was no way Senior White House Advisor Sam Seaborne did not know what a brilliant, attractive man he was. "Well, I think I will brush right past the fact that apparently you have only a very hazy recollection of sleeping with me last night …" she laughed. "And say …yes. I'd like to see you again."

"Good …That's good, right?" Sam realized to his surprise that he felt relieved.

Vicky could not help but laugh and stare at him in amazement. "You were not kidding when you said you aren't very good with this, were you?"

"I hardly ever make jokes, most people don't get my sense of humour and things get awkward very fast."

"I see."

"I need to get to the White House." He said in an earnest tone.

"I know. I could drive you if you tell me how to get there. My car is in the parking-garage underneath the apartment-complex." She gave him a sly smile. What those reporters most likely don't know is that there is an exit into the side street."

"I don't know if thats a good idea."

"And your plan was? Just leaving this building and hailing a cab while the hyenas fall upon you like a lost gazelle?"

Sam's forehead crinkled up. "I don't think I care for that particular analogy."

Vicky tried to suppress a giggle. After a moment of thought Sam nodded. "Maybe you are right…thank you." Also spending another twenty minutes with her sounded really good to Sam right now. He grabbed his jacket. "Let's go…"

"Sam ….Sam…." she said quietly, blocking his way. "Think Sam…." Her voice took on an earnest tone. "You want to take a shower before going to the White House." Vicky told him.

"This is rather urgent." he explained. Vicky frowned.

"Yes. I realize that, but …Sam …" she reached up to lay her hands around his face, making sure he looked at her when she continued. "So is the shower. How do I put this ….you were in a bar, we had a few drinks …quite a few actually. We came here and slept together …and to be honest we did go more than one round, sooo ….you want to take this shower now, Sam."

Then she stood up on tip toes and kissed him gently on the lips. Sam felt his jacket glide from his grip as his arms closed around her. She felt good …he remembered thinking so last night. How nice she felt in his arms, almost like she belonged there ….he grinned. One thing he did remembere was her giving Amy a run for her money.

"I think …I like you." He whispered into her ear. Vicky leaned back to look at his face, grinning.

"Good….I think I kind of like you too."

"This is nice …"

"Yes …."

"Sam?"

"Yes?"

"Drama, reporters …shower."

"Okay…"

"In the meantime I guess, I will try to find something more appropriate to wear when meeting the leader of the free-world ….and my father."


End file.
